


Broken Links, New Bonds

by Jaye_Voy



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Adult Content, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6117467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaye_Voy/pseuds/Jaye_Voy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tuvok seeks counsel after being assimilated by the Borg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Links, New Bonds

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the conclusion of "Unimatrix Zero".  
> Originally written in 2003. Although there are a few tweaks, the story's contents (and its flaws) are mostly intact.  
> Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property of Paramount. No infringement is intended or profit made. PG for adult themes.

PART ONE

I moved as silently as possible through Voyager's Sickbay, years of adult experience blending with half-remembered lessons from childhood to add lightness to my steps. My eyes adjusted to the dim glow of the monitors, artificial sentinels watching over the room's occupants.

I never know why I bother to sneak. The Doc's awareness is tied into the ship's sensors, so he probably registered my presence the second the door panel opened.

Besides, he has served with me long enough to know my routines and become socialized to the point where he accommodates my need for privacy in this personal duty. For my part, I did fidget my way through a two-day wait until the Doc declared the trio successfully de-Borged and on the road to recovery.

It's an unspoken agreement between us: I visit Voyager's wounded at odd hours but don't disturb them, and he ignores the fact that I occasionally haunt his Sickbay like some tribal Florence Nightingale.

I've had this...habit, I suppose, far longer than my stint as a Maquis captain. Ever since I attained a Starfleet rank that made me responsible for other people's lives, I've felt the need to see for myself that the wounded are on the mend. That my decisions didn't cause them irrevocable harm.

When my orders do prove fatal, I visit the morgue.

Living or dead, the sacrifices of those who give me their trust should never be forgotten.

It's something my father taught me. And unlike so many other beliefs he held dear, I never churlishly abandoned this one during my teenage escape from the planet of my birth.

So here I am, in the still of ship's night, honoring my comrades-in-arms.

Kinship, if not blood, pulls me first to B'Elanna's side. The wash of relief makes my knees weak at the sight of her once more looking herself. Her skin is again golden and alive, her restored hair tousled about her sleeping face. On her forehead and cheek shiny patches of skin still bear the imprint of the Borg implants so recently removed, but the Doc reassures me that the marks will fade soon enough.

I can't resist the temptation to touch, to gain some tactile confirmation that B'Elanna is all right. A single finger stroke does it, just enough to follow the contours of her ridges. Like the rub of a talisman, almost. I know how very lucky I was in finding her so many years ago, this sister of my heart.

Sleep eluded me when the away team was aboard the Borg ship, trying to save the inhabitants of Unimatrix Zero. I hid my distress well enough on duty, but I felt as though I couldn't breathe, tensed for another blow, another loss, this time from among members of my Voyager family.

With the whisper of a blessing I remember from my village's shaman, I leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to B'Elanna's forehead, then left her to her dreams.

I hope they're peaceful ones.

***************

Kathryn was my next stop. A gasp escaped me at the sight of her, so frail, her form a slight swell beneath the Sickbay blanket.

I know she would not be pleased to know I glimpsed her this far from her best. Weakness is something Captain Kathryn Janeway admits rarely, even in the face of overwhelming evidence. I'm sure tomorrow she will be glossing over her aches and pains and snapping at the Doc that she's ready to go back on duty.

Whether she truly is or not.

I hovered, hesitating, wanting to reach out but not knowing if I should. Our rapport is the strongest it's been since the halcyon days before Species 8472, before Equinox. I didn't want to do anything to jeopardize our slowly returning camaraderie.

My reaction to this woman is, as always, complex. A tangled skein of respect and trust, worry and protectiveness, tenderness and affection, frustration and resentment. So knotted and gnarled by this time I know I'll never be able to separate the strands.

At one time I believed my heart was wrapped up in those threads, bound to Kathryn with ties of love as well as honor and duty. I sigh with the echo of pain fleeting memories of New Earth bring.

We had taken our time learning each other then, believing that we had the rest of our lives. Day by day, we revealed more of our inner selves, settling into a new dynamic as man and woman, rather than crewmates in a command structure.

But those feelings are long in the past; they helped form who I have become, but they are no longer really part of who I am.

I lost my chance with Kathryn Janeway the moment she learned Voyager was coming back for us. She immediately began to struggle against our newfound connection, as if she were trapped in a net solely of my making, rather than a joint weaving of our lives.

Her pulling away hurt me, but did not surprise me. Kathryn had always held firm to her belief that, as captain, she should exist on a separate plane of existence from her subordinates. When we returned to the ship she desperately wanted to clamber back upon her pedestal, even if she was the only one who believed she should reside there.

So I let her stretch the ties between us until they were no longer binding; and maintained my own distance until I could once again view her as only a friend.

That attitude was proved beyond the shadow of a doubt when I didn't try to stop Kathryn from implementing her plan to be assimilated by the Borg.

I simply supported her decision by making sure she had the proper back-up for such a risky scheme.

The way any good officer would.

And I worried for Kathryn, the way I did for B'Elanna, for Tuvok.

But our separation, and her danger, didn't bring the heart-wrenching devastation it might have, once upon a time.

With a sigh I rubbed my thumb along the frown lines pinching her eyebrows together, massaging gently. When they smoothed out under my touch I dropped my hand and moved away.

***************

When I reached Tuvok, I deliberately laid my hands on the very edge of the biobed to remind myself Vulcans don't appreciate casual contact. I've seen Tuvok tense underneath Kathryn's hand often enough to make a point of never laying a finger on him.

Especially considering how much more unwelcome my imposition would be. After all, Tuvok and I aren't exactly friends.

I understood why he betrayed my Maquis cell, but it kept me from trusting him for a long time. And from his willingness to leave me behind---with Seska and the Kazon, in the plans to catch Jonas, on New Earth---I gathered he didn't trust me, either.

Or, frankly, think very much of me. At least, that's always been my impression. I don't know how much of that is me projecting deeper meaning onto his Vulcan stoicism, and how much I am genuinely picking up his unspoken opinion.

It hardly matters. We've managed to establish a good working relationship and can socialize without the friction of the early days. And when we hit the Void Tuvok backed me in my plan to keep Kathryn from stranding herself there in some melodramatic expression of self-loathing.

It was a good feeling, to know Tuvok had my back. Reassuring, but fleeting. When Kathryn was back in command he retreated to our usual indifference.

He's...hard to know. Even after years of service together I still get the impression he deliberately holds himself aloof from me. A definite distance exists between us that I have no clue how to overcome. Or, at this point, if he would even want me to try.

Ah, well. The nebulous nature of our personal situation doesn't mitigate my regret for his current condition. The Sickbay blanket twists in my grip as I catalog the signs of Tuvok's continuing struggle to recover from assimilation. His non-scars are stark against the darkness of his skin, the patches along his face like some horrible rash.

Worse, he seems uncomfortable, even in his drug-induced slumber. His fists are tightly clenched and crossed over his chest. Curled up on his side in fetal position, Tuvok looks like some artist's rendition of pain and suffering.

His face, so tense and strained, will haunt me for some time.

I just stood and stared, helpless to offer comfort or succor to the most wounded member of our away team. But I wished I could, to somehow atone for my decision not to pull them off the Borg ship when we first had the chance. I knew every moment past the deadline increased the likelihood of the Doc's neural inhibitor failing. But I believed the mission was worth the risk. In hindsight, I still do.

But I am sorry Tuvok paid the price.

Even more than Tuvok's physical condition, his mental state concerns me. He's a Vulcan, used to absolute, intrinsic control of his body and mind. How much worse, then, did the incredible helplessness of assimilation feel?

Yes, feel. I know his planet's culture well enough to understand the intensity of Vulcans' emotions are matched only by their determination not to express them. Their mental gifts are formidable indeed.

I can only hope the Borg violation of his mind left his soul intact.

My language is archaic and imprecise. I'm sure Tuvok does not think this way, but I do.

I'm worried for him, this man who has never been my friend.

With a last sigh I released Tuvok's blanket and sought my own bed.

************************************************************  
************************************************************

PART TWO

Three weeks after the destruction of Unimatrix Zero, things appeared to have returned to normal aboard Voyager. B'Elanna was back to eating her engineering ensigns for breakfast; Kathryn has reclaimed her role of benevolent dictator at large.

Even Tuvok has resumed his post on the bridge, his familiar arched eyebrow and withering ripostes keeping Tom and Harry in line.

I can't help thinking, though, that not all is at it seems. I set aside the reports I'm supposed to be reading and stare at my office walls, exploring my unease.

For one thing, Tuvok's been keeping to himself more than usual. No games of Kal-toh with Seven or Harry; no time spent in "illogical" holodeck gatherings or mess hall diversions. He does his job and disappears, day after day.

And, as irrational as I know it sounds, I think Tuvok is blaming me for his trauma with the Borg. I've noticed that he avoids being anywhere near me, even to the point of pretending to miss the turbolift if I'm the only one on it.

I don't know what to do. He received a clean bill of health from the Doctor. Kathryn, as well as Tuvok's own staff, don't seem to think anything is amiss. And I am hardly the most qualified person to judge whether Tuvok is acting out of character off-duty.

I wish Kes were still with us. Although Tuvok was her mentor, he seemed able to confide in her. She was an old soul, and full of a gentle wisdom that could have smoothed so many rough patches we've experienced over the years.

My thoughts are interrupted by the chime. I quickly checked my calendar; no one is scheduled for a conference this evening. "Enter," I called, welcoming the distraction.

Shock *must* have registered on my face when Tuvok walked through the door. I was taken aback at him seeking me out after pointedly avoiding my company for so many days. I would have expected Kathryn to receive this visit, or perhaps Seven. But I never imagined Tuvok coming to me for help in any form. I hastily rose and called for a privacy lock, gesturing for him to take one of the chairs in front of my desk as I walked around to hover in front of the other.

I studied Tuvok as he moved to sit. He was dressed in an ankle-length blue silk tunic over loose trousers. Without his command mask, the lines and shadows on his face seemed to have eased not at all since I saw him in Sickbay.

"Would you like something to drink, Tuvok?" I asked quickly to cover my rude stare. My scrutiny probably did not go unnoticed, along with my dismay.

"No, thank you, Comm---Chakotay." My eyes narrowed. Tuvok's careful tone was a clue; his choices in this meeting some kind of message for me.

I considered: Tuvok has arrived after shift, dressed in civilian clothes, addressing me by my name rather than my rank. Yet he chose my office for the meeting---did that mean he wished to retain some professional decorum, or simply that he was not comfortable approaching me anywhere else? With what I hoped was an imperceptible sigh at my own frustration, I sat and asked, "What can I do for you?"

Tuvok's gaze seemed to reflect confusion a moment, bewilderment, as though he was himself uncertain of the answer. His fingers, long and elegant, twitched a moment as if he wanted to twist them together.

My vague unease focused sharply. I leaned forward, careful to keep my own hands hanging loosely over my knees, resisting the urge to clasp Tuvok's in a show of support. I waited as patiently as I could; Tuvok had closed the distance between us to seek my counsel, and I was determined to do my best for him.

Tuvok finally broke the silence. "You experienced assimilation with Doctor Riley Frazer and her cohorts, is that correct?"

I sat back slightly and kept my arms from crossing in front of me in automatic defense. I nodded slowly, surprised at the question. "Yes, I believe so. It wasn't quite the same of course---physically I was unchanged---but my will was submerged by the group mind."

My embarrassed eyes sought to alight anywhere but on Tuvok. Next to his experience, my own seemed a trivial thing. But my reaction to the Borg was quite real. In a half-hearted attempt to justify my still-lingering fear of the creatures I offered, "I also retain some sense of Seven's life experience from my temporary link with her when she was severed from the collective."

"Yes, I believed that to be the case." Tuvok seemed to debate within himself for a time, then looked at me once more, his eyes full of shadows. "Did you...afterward...still hear the voices?"

Horror dried my mouth. I knew all too well what Tuvok meant, being adrift on a sea of whispers that never ended. No compass, no destination, drowning in jumbled words in languages you shouldn't know.

Unavoidable, inescapable. For far too long a time.

I swallowed. "Yes." I managed not to strangle the word, focusing on Tuvok's troubles rather than the adrenaline surge at the brief reminder of my own past. "Are you having some problems?" I asked as gently as I could.

"I..." One of Tuvok's hands strayed to rub at his temple, the tremors in his fingers betraying the depth of his distress. "Yes. I've had some success in ignoring the memories. But then I have a flashback. I find myself returned to the moment when the neutralizer failed and my consciousness was...when I was..."

"Lost," I whispered.

"Yes." Tuvok abruptly stood, his agitated pacing adding a surreal quality to this most unexpected conversation.

I followed him with my eyes. "Have you told the EMH about this? Perhaps he could offer you---"

"No." The uncharacteristic sharpness of Tuvok's response silenced me immediately. I waited for him to explain.

"The Doctor's only remedy is to use a cortical suppressor, to shut down certain brain functions entirely. Hardly a miracle cure." The brief flash of wryness was vintage Tuvok and somehow reassured me.

"You believe you have a better remedy?" I was further relieved when Tuvok returned to his seat.

"Perhaps." Tuvok seemed to deliberately still his restless fingers, frowning down at them as if annoyed by their unruly behavior. "Vulcans aid the repair of physical and mental damage by focusing the mind. By meditation." His grim expression deepened; he still hadn't looked at me. "I have been unable to perform any healing rituals since my return."

I didn't want to offend Tuvok with unwelcome sympathy or sorrow, so I focused on what I now believed was the reason he was here. "And you'd like me to guide you in a meditation?"

"No. I would---I ask for permission to mind-meld with you." Finally Tuvok raised his eyes to mine, and I could see how much it had cost him to make such a personal request.

So I was a little ashamed of my reaction as I instinctively leapt to my feet and moved away, putting distance between us as if I were afraid Tuvok would reach across the gap and forcibly drag me into his nightmare. "I don't understand, Tuvok. Why would you want to mind-meld with me?"

I gained control of myself and cautiously settled back into my seat. "Vorik is a fellow Vulcan, Kathryn and B'Elanna shared your experiences on the Borg ship, and Seven has a much greater understanding of assimilation. You're closer to all of them than to me. Why come here?"

Tuvok's eyebrows drew together; I could see the tension in his jaw, in every line of him. But he did answer me. "Vorik does not possess the awareness necessary to understand events and their consequences. Seven was captured by the Borg as a child; she does not comprehend the depth of the...violation." His eyes dropped to his hands and I followed, surprised to see they had escaped his control and wrapped themselves around each other. I wondered if the gesture was an expression of comfort sought or a reflection of distress.

He cleared his throat and continued. "B'Elanna and the captain did not...lose themselves. They share the surface but not the substance of the experience." This time Tuvok leaned forward, his intense gaze almost startling me into flight once more. But I held my ground. "There is one other reason."

I waited to hear it, our quickened breaths the only sounds in the room.

"You know what it is like to be part of the Borg group-mind, but your time with them is unique. The report was somewhat vague..." One eyebrow raised in Tuvok's traditional prelude to understatement. "But I was under the impression that the joining of minds at one point was not entirely...repugnant."

"Vague" was an interesting way of describing that particular example of non-information, and both of us knew it. Tuvok must have quite a talent for reading between the lines.

"Perhaps," I admitted. "But those moments didn't compensate for what came afterward." Confusion pulled my face into a frown. "You want to explore my personal relationship with Riley? What do you hope to gain from it?"

Tuvok looked away. "I cannot meditate because my assimilation---the Borg---destroyed my link to T'Pel." His voice was rough with emotions I'm sure he'd never admit in front of me. "Our bond was fragile at best, eroded by time and distance, but it was my...anchor, if you will. Now she is gone."

My eyes burned and my throat tightened at the realization of the extent of his loss. What could I say in the face of such devastation? Nothing would, could make amends. Any apologies or expressions of sympathy I offered would be merely sops to my own pained conscience and added burdens to him.

I retreated into formal Vulcan. "I grieve with thee," I said quietly.

Tuvok turned back to me, startled I think. His nod was accompanied by an odd expression, perhaps awareness of or appreciation for my restraint.

I shifted in my seat, a little uncomfortable with the next question. "Kathryn doesn't know, does she?"

"No, she does not." Tuvok held my gaze, his own insistent. "And she must not."

I simply nodded. Of course he would not want to add to the store of guilt Kathryn had already gathered in our journey home.

After a moment he relaxed somewhat, his hands uncurling as if offering me his logic. "For Vulcans who can mind-meld, the ability is at the core of their personality, a necessary component of their emotional control. But I am now...afraid...of the idea of joining with another mind. Of being, as you have said, lost to another's will."

He looked at me once more. "So I *must* regain my confidence in the act, if I am to regain myself. I believe your encounter with Riley Frazer is close to the experience of a Vulcan mating bond. If I can sense once more the benefits of such a joining, perhaps I can recover my own willingness to form such connections. And of course, lose my distrust of the mind-meld itself."

"You seek the sense of communion that came before the compulsion," I deduced. I continued to draw out the parallels. "You think that living my experience with Riley through a mind-meld will enable you to re-establish your bond with T'Pel?"

"No, Chakotay, your assumption is incorrect." Tuvok's expression was once more intent, but filled with a heat I had never seen before. "The ability to form a new bond is what I seek, not the return of the old one. I am content with the dissolution of my marriage."

"What?!?" *That* was news to me. I had thought Tuvok's love for T'Pel a constant of the universe, one of the beacons guiding Voyager home. I was stunned to hear otherwise. "You no longer want to be married?"

"I *am* no longer married." For some reason, this topic seemed to have a calming effect on Tuvok. He patiently explained, "The end of the link is the end of the relationship. It will be formalized, I have no doubt, with a private decree of separation in the next packet from Starfleet."

He sighed. "We were bonded when we were mere children. In part because our parents suspected that we shared a particular...tendency."

"I don't understand." I'm sure my confusion was disappointing, but I was still reeling from Tuvok's original announcement. He was going to have to be more specific.

"Vulcans consider pon farr and procreation the main purposes for marriage; that the bonds are heterosexual is simply a matter of logic. When it seems likely that a person...would be more satisfied in another kind of joining, he or she is sometimes paired with a counterpart who shares the same...aberration." His voice was matter-of-fact. "It brings a certain balance to the resulting relationship."

"Are you saying that you---that you're bisexual?" I hadn't thought I could be more surprised this evening. Clearly I was wrong. "You never showed any signs of it."

Tuvok gave a graceful but uncharacteristic shrug. "I was mated. The life-bond suppresses other appetites in favor of one's partner." He looked at me again with an intensity that was like a physical touch. "And I have always been careful to avoid temptation."

My eyes widened at his inference. Tuvok didn't want anything to do with me because he wanted me? I could feel my face heat under his relentless stare. "Um---does that mean---are you saying---?" I sputtered to a stop and just sat, trying to wrap my mind around this revelation. I had been so wrong in my reading of his reasons for avoiding me all this time.

"Yes. Your present surmises are indeed correct." Tuvok leaned forward with a hiss of silk. "Chakotay. I have admired your ability to fit yourself into whatever role circumstances require. I respect your determination to retain your personal integrity despite the turmoil of your life. You have intelligence and insight tempered with compassion and warmth. Your personality is complex and contrary, simply fascinating." 

He shrugged again. "And now that I am no longer held to my marriage vows, I can admit I find you aesthetically and sexually compelling."

"So what is this---really?" I stood to confront him. "Was your request for help just a means to get inside my head? A lead-in to some kind of proposition? A highly original pick-up line?" I didn't think so, given Tuvok's obvious signs of fatigue, but I'd been manipulated before. By him.

"No, Chakotay." With new awareness I could hear the thrum of...something...underneath his simple saying of my name. I suspected I was going to be reviewing our contact of the last few years in a different light some time in the future. But for the present, I focused on Tuvok's words. "I did not come to you under false pretenses. I *do* simply wish to cure myself of the debilitating effects of Borg assimilation. And I believe I need your help to do so." 

His mouth quirked. "As for the more personal admissions...it seemed a logical moment to make my interest known."

I shook my head ruefully and perched on the arm of my chair. "Your sense of timing is...interesting, Tuvok." I looked at him as he sat quietly waiting for my decision.

And then I really *looked* at him.

It's always been a quirk of my personality that I'm simply not attracted to married people. I'm not sure why; maybe my upbringing. But for some reason the moment I know vows have been spoken my interest vanishes as though it never existed. No matter how alluring the person may have seemed a moment before.

If nothing else, it helped me survive faculty parties at the Academy. I had no problem turning down bored fellow professors---or their spouses---looking for a thrill.

I've always known Tuvok was married. Ergo, he was off-limits and it never crossed my mind to wonder whether I considered him attractive.

Do I?

I've never been particularly susceptible to a person's appearance. I tend to be drawn to a certain kind of character, the spirit within rather than the outward package. An average-looking person with an interesting personality always wins my attention over the raving beauty with less going on upstairs.

And I find strength irresistibly sexy---the sense of internal certitude, though it's often backed by physical prowess. In men or women, a confident air is simply the most potent aphrodisiac I know.

Tuvok certainly has that in spades, despite his current troubles. Besides, I find his vulnerability endearing rather than off-putting.

Physically? His looks suit him. Lean and elegant, blending shades of dark, austere and forbidding to the uninitiated. But there are chinks in his armor that allow glimpses of humor and passion, and when he truly relaxes there is something about Tuvok that lets you know there is so much more to him than logic.

My own uncertainties regarding his true opinion of me had been banished by his words tonight. Tuvok's honesty, and his willingness to trust me with his secrets, removed the other impediment to my attraction. I simply can't love where I can't trust---it's partly why both Seska and Kathryn eventually lost my affections.

Not that I'm in love, mind you. Just...attracted.

"I'll be honest with you, Tuvok. You've given me a hell of a lot to absorb in a short time." I rubbed the back of my neck out of habit. "I don't know how to take your sudden interest in me, especially when we know so little about each other."

I sensed him tensing once more and quickly spoke to reassure him. "But I *will* allow the mind-meld. If you think that accessing my memories will help you throw off the Borg influence, then I'd be glad to help."

He sank back into his chair and nodded. I noticed that much of the stiffness drained from his body. He asked me, "When do you wish to proceed?"

"Well, I'd like to grab some food and a shower before we begin," I said, "but where is a little more of a question. I was thinking of neutral territory---maybe the Hydroponics Bay?"

The softness in Tuvok's dark eyes told me he also was remembering Kes. "Most appropriate," he murmured as we stood. "If you are agreeable, we will meet there in ninety minutes' time."

I nodded, and was surprised one last time when Tuvok reached out to lay a hand on my forearm.

"Thank you," he said, then without another word or look left the room in a whisper of silk.

I sighed and looked at the time. It had taken less than an hour to radically alter my entire universe.

************************************************************

PART THREE (CONCLUSION)

I felt awkward in my new silk outfit. It's such a luxurious, decadent fabric, and I've had little reason to wear such garments these last few years.

Still, it felt incredibly sensual as it glided along my skin. I wondered if Tuvok had the same reaction.

I also thought about how often I'd seen him wear silk. Interesting.

The sound of Tuvok calling for a privacy lock brought me up from the bench where I'd been idly contemplating the greenery.

We met in the middle of the racks of plants. He appeared the same as before, his remote expression falling away as he appraised my appearance. He bowed, and I echoed his gesture.

Silence underlaid by the susurrations of the machinery accompanied Tuvok's opening and spreading of the thick blanket he brought. When he was satisfied with its positioning we sank down across from each other, sitting cross-legged, our knees touching.

I was surprised to feel the heat of him through the dual layers of cloth. I knew his metabolism was different than mine, but the information had never really translated to physical terms.

When our gazes met, his face was still tired but his expression was serene. "Thank you, Chakotay," he said again.

I knew it was a last check of my willingness to go through with his plan. I nodded, offering a small, uncertain smile.

He nodded as well, and lifted my hand in both of his. He shifted my fingers against his face, placing them in the traditional position for a mind-meld. When he felt I was ready, he dropped one hand and used the other to mirror mine.

My fingertips rested against his skin, absorbing his warmth. His touch upon me was precisely marked by points of heat and pressure.

He looked at me as he began the ritual chant.

I could feel my perspective shifting, my eyes closing upon this world to open again to a vision of the past. I sensed Tuvok with me, a presence at my back and somehow also within.

Suddenly I was floating in the gestalt, the chants of the former Borg cradling me, healing me, their presence soothing and protective. I hadn't remembered how peaceful it felt.

Then the others faded and I was with Riley alone. We were exploring each other, sharing the sensations: sight and sound, touch and scent and taste. We dwelled in both bodies, both sexes, knowing what it felt like to be both giver and recipient at once.

Together. On a level I couldn't put into words. It had been the most profound sex of my life.

I had forgotten the sheer wonder of it.

Then something seemed to move through me, within me. When I blinked I was shocked to find Riley gone. In her place Tuvok lay beneath me. His heat surrounded me as I sank into him, his long legs clasped high around my back.

I leaned forward, swiping my tongue across his lips, bringing my hands up to cradle his head and caress his springy short hair.

He opened to me and our mouths mated, tongues matching the strain and twist of our bodies seeking release.

I could have forced him out, pushed us back into my true memory and him back to the role of observer. But what flowed between us felt so natural. Strength and desire, tenderness and passion melding into something even more special than what I had with Riley.

Because this was honest. There was no agenda beyond our sharing the pleasure of the moment.

My focus was divided between my thrusts into Tuvok and his acceptance of me. When he yearned toward me I answered him. What I asked of him I received without hesitation.

I rose up a little, breaking our kiss, staring into his eyes as we continued to move together. I read heat, and desire, and fear, and joy, a million different emotions that flowed beneath his serene face and through our connection.

And somewhere in the joining of our minds I made the choice to not take things slowly, as I had with Kathryn. Not to hesitate and withhold myself, as I had with so many others.

I fumbled for Tuvok's hand, twining our fingers together. The other I placed in the position I guessed we were still holding in the waking world. "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts," I whispered before I kissed him once more.

I opened up a door and invited him inside...myself. Who I had been in the course of becoming who I was at this moment. Deeper and deeper, even as I was moving into Tuvok's body I granted him access to my mind.

My soul.

And then Tuvok offered himself in return.

One moment we were in my memories, the next in his. He was looming above me, panting into my face with heated breaths, his eyes wild and the scents of sweat and musk heavy on his skin.

This was pon farr, and I had taken T'Pel's place in Tuvok's bed. His grip on my shoulders would have been painful if I hadn't also been caught up in the heat. The need, feral and primitive and completely out of control.

His body slammed against mine, into mine. I felt his cock like a rod of heated steel parting my flesh. Yet his mind opened to mine with the same abandon, taking me into childhood memories and youthful rebellions, the dreams discarded or fulfilled in adulthood.

The sorrows and defeats, triumphs and joys that formed the person who wore the name Tuvok of Vulcan.

The passion between us grew, we were fusing together on levels I had never known existed.

It was glorious.

With a shout I flipped us over on the bed, the desert air of Vulcan no match for the heat rising from our bodies. I plunged downward, seating him more deeply as he thrust upward, driving toward release.

Then he grabbed my head and our mouths returned to devour each other as our bodies pounded out a rhythm of their own making.

In the middle of our frenzy I felt an icy blast of awareness, of a secret laid bare. I loved him. Somewhere in that revealing of his soul he'd struck a chord, forged a bond with my own. An unspoken pledge I had never made to another. I knew then that the distance we had held between us could never return. I wouldn't survive the separation.

I panicked. It was too much, and I didn't know what would happen to me, to us, after this moment. My strokes faltered as I clutched at Tuvok's biceps, trembling, staring down into his blazing eyes.

In that instant I felt Tuvok return my love with his own. His trust, his caring, his respect, his passion. The affirmation of our feelings brought a sense of completeness, an exultation---it was all and everything.

*He* became my future, and his past and present as much mine as the experiences I had lived through myself. And I felt him claiming me, as deeply and surely, joining us, two yet one.

We were floating in a sea of silence, entangled and entwined.

Our tension eased, bodies quieted. My eyes fluttered closed. I felt him drawing us away from the vision and into the real world.

***************

I returned to myself and was immediately overwhelmed by the heat of Tuvok's body pressed to my own. We had shifted position and were now kneeling together. My thighs straddled his lap, our mouths fused, our hands still maintaining the meld.

We broke our lip-lock and stared at each other. I could still sense Tuvok's presence, a warm glow at the back of my mind. And I knew how...happy...he was at the turn of events, from our mental connection and from the light in his eyes.

His fingers wandered slowly over my face, making me shiver under his touch. His expression softened as he brushed my eyebrows, traced my tattoo. When his tactile exploration reached my lips I kissed his fingertips.

Tuvok made a soft sound at the back of his throat and leaned in for a kiss. I felt his hand circle my neck, stroking my nape.

When we parted I lifted my own hands to trace the delicate upsweep of his ears, following the curves and lines. His cheeks were smooth under my fingers, and his sharply-angled eyebrows a delight. I cupped the corners of his jaw, tracing the outline of his wide mouth with my thumbs.

Without words we slowly began to undress each other, silk yielding to skin. He was lean and hard, wiry and male. I ran my fingers down the center of his chest and up again to cup his shoulders. His collarbone was a perfect target for quick strokes of my tongue.

Tuvok pushed my shirt off and skimmed my chest, his fingertips teasing my nipples into stiff attention. He spread his hands over my ribs and maneuvered us to lie down on our sides.

We resumed kissing and stroking, as slow and tender now as we had been frenzied in the meld. I slid my hands under Tuvok's waistband, pushing his trousers down to reveal the sweep of his legs.

He was carved in ebony, all long clean lines and lithe muscles. I felt his hands sink into my hair as I explored him, my hands sweeping his hips and sides as I continued to taste his skin.

I acquiesced when he drew me once more into his kiss. His hands swept down my back in trails of fire, cupping my buttocks and rubbing his naked cock against my still-clothed erection.

The slide of silk and his skin made me moan, startling us both in the breathy silence.

It also seemed to trip something within us both. He wrenched my pants off and suddenly we were grinding into each other, his arousal like a brand against my belly, mine slickly sliding against his skin, brushing the thatch of hair at his groin.

We kissed, breathing together, open mouths sliding and panting over each other's faces only to return to suck at each other's lips and tongues.

Thrust and counterthrust, moving as one, we drove toward fulfillment. My body and mind thrummed with awareness of him, and his awareness of me. Passion building, burning, and finally releasing in a flood of heat across our skins.

***************

My pulse gradually slowed, and I felt Tuvok's breaths change from heaves to pants to sighs. I stroked one hand down his arm and felt him capture my hand.

I opened my eyes to find him staring at me. I shuddered in reaction as he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. I cupped his cheek. "How are you?" I asked softly, a world of concerns condensed to that single question.

"I am well," he answered, a ghost of a smile hovering about his lips. "I am myself, again, and content with my life---and my life-mate."

I chuckled at the wave of satisfaction he sent me through our link. If he didn't have such good control he'd be grinning ear to ear. "I'm glad your plan worked, though I admit I'm a little shocked that 'intent to marry' somehow got mixed in with my 'intent to help'."

"But you have no regrets?" he asked carefully.

The tinge of unease he projected was unacceptable. I laid my palm on his heart and said, "None. I didn't know I was missing a part of myself until I found it in you."

I felt the press of Tuvok's hand against my chest, a mirror to my own. Then he smiled at me, and he was beautiful.

With a last kiss, we wrapped ourselves in the blanket and our arms around each other. Holding each other close, so very close, we settled down to sleep.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcomed with great joy and constructive criticism is treasured as a rare gift.


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